History Repeats
by NeverEndingFool
Summary: Voldemort has returned fifty years after his death at the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived. Finally, he plans to take Hogwarts and kill his most hated enemy.


------------History Repeats  
  
It was finally his time. It had taken years to come to this final conclusion, and decades to prepare for it. However, here it was. The flames flickered in the distance, even from his distance he could make out their elegant dance as they ravaged the castle. However, the flames were nothing. Other than he and his minons, no one could even see them, for the towers which fueled their destruction were no doubt empty and deserted, as was the rest of the great fortress.  
  
His Death Eaters were ignroing the inhabitants for now. They were making no moves, there were none that would succeed. The dark robed soldiers were throwing spells around and whispering incantations, concentrating on bringing down the magics that protected the castle he was attacking. They found that after the initial attack they could not enter into the Hall where his enemies would be waiting. They were waiting for him and his followers, they had been for the last few hours. He had waited too - but he had been waiting for more than fifty years. The next few hours would make little difference in comparison, so he waited patiently for the Death Eaters to break the fortress before him.  
  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his home for a very miserable seven years, though at the time he thought otherwise. Afterwards, he was glad to leave, it was a glorious time for him. He abandoned his closest friends, those who had been with him during his torubled stay at the castle. He abandoned those who ahd looked up to him and those who hated him. They were not important, what was important, was his revenge. After being hidden for several decades, he announced his return as the Dark Lord Voldemort.  
  
Lord Voldemort, the name struck fear into the hearts of the enitre wizarding world even now. They all cowered before his power, his murderous rage and lust for vengeance. However, it was soon revealed that the name Voldemort no longer symbalized the purification of wizarding blood and the extinction of worthless muggles, but simply violence; cold-blooded murdering and suffering. As he knew they would, they panicked and could not unite against him. One thing he'd learned early in his life was how to spread discord among his enemies. However, as he'd expected, there were those who would fight valiantly against him. The one who united them, their leader as he had been so many times before, was no doubt in this castle, waiting for his own death in the one place regarded as a safe haven.  
  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts and leader and founder of the Order of The Phoenix. Voldemort's greatest enemy. Aging wizard thought to be the greatest of this time. It was time that was proven wrong.  
  
'My Lord, Hogwarts is broken.' The Death Eater was standing straight and tall, looking Voldemort in the eyes. Voldemort would not settle for minons who cowered in his presence, for they were no better than the people he sought to destroy.  
  
'Good. I will arrive and we will go forward.' Voldemort's voice was deep. It would be comforting, if it were not so cold that it made a wizard's hair stand on end. He stalked forward towards the main doors to the castle, that would take him into the Entrance Hall. He revealed his wand from his blood red robes and pointed it at the doors without an incantation. They crashed open, torn from their hinges, sent flailing several feet from where they once stood. His Death Eaters following behind him, he marched into the Entrance Hall and was greeted by what was no doubt those that wished to stand against him.   
  
Furthest back, closest to the doors leading into the Great Hall, the school Prefects, flanking two students who were no doubt the Head Boy and Girl. Before them was the staff of Hogwarts. Many new faces were among them, but there were many old as well.  
  
Voldemort recognized Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, it was a miracle she was still alive. Her hair was white and her limbs were weak, she still clutched the old cane she ahd been using fifty years before, but she stood strong, straight and tall, her lips still thinning familiarly.  
  
He also recognized Severus Snape, the potions master. Very familiar with the Dark Arts and no doubt a force to be reckoned with. He stood, staring at Snape with all the hatred that could be mustered. There was little change in Snape's demeanor. His lips still curled with rage, his hair was still greasy although closer to grey than black. His robes were still black and he still looked at his enemy with the same hateful glare that he had used as long as Voldemort had known him.  
  
But, before the familiar teachers and the new younger ones that were not recognized, before the Prefects, still standing like a beacon of light for those who opposed evil, was Dumbledore. He looked old and weary as ever, his silver hair and beard were far thinner and his eyes were those of someone very tired, bloodshot and sagging.  
  
'Lord Voldemort-' a Death Eater behind him started, but Voldemort raised his hand to quiet him, and he did quiet.  
  
'You still use his name?' Dumbledore asked, still sounding calm and confident as he always had.  
  
'I bring more to this name than Tom ever did.' Voldemort said, coolly but clearly dodging the question.  
  
'Perhaps you do. He would be pleased to know he lives on through you.' Dumbledore said, letting the insult hit full force.  
  
'He does not live on through me. I have destroyed the memory of Tom Riddle by surpassing him.'  
  
'Is that why all this must happen, Harry? You destroy and murder out of hate for a dead man?'  
  
'No. This is because I lost everything to a worthless prophecy. I was chosen to lose what I had and give what I gained.'  
  
'We never chose you, Harry. No one wanted you to suffer as you did.'  
  
'I had everything taken from me before I was born, because Fate chose me to save the world. I battled Tom my entire life, and the world offered not an ounce of help or even their thanks. They even worked against me, denouncing me. Finally, when I destroyed Riddle I was still was not appreciated. I saved the world and the world still thought I was unstable, and too powerful for them to control any longer. I was used up, sucked dry and thrown away for killing the man they hated most.'  
  
'Do you still believe you killed him, Harry?'  
  
'You watched him die by my hand.'  
  
'When I saw you use his own curse against him, I knew then that you had lost. We all did, when you rejected love and slayed him with your hate.'  
  
'He died, Albus. I think the ends justify the means.'  
  
'Did he die? I see you, standing before me, using his name and accomplishing his goals. Voldemort did not die that day, Harry, you did.'  
  
'NO! I killed him! He has died by my hand and now I am exacting my vengeance on those who deserve it!' Harry was shaking with rage. Dumbledore still stood, unflinching.  
  
'You may have killed Tom Riddle, Harry, but he was already dead. Now, you too are suffering his fate. You have become Lord Voldemort, because he thrives on the very thing you tried to kill him with, Hate.'  
  
'I have not become him by using his name! I've had enough of you, old man, since the very beginning I knew I would be rid of you sometime, and now I will be. _AVADA KEDAVRA_!'  
  
Harry rose his wand for the curse, and Dumbledore was no longer the wizard he once was. He made an attempt to raise his wand, but was not fast enough. He could not dodge or move fast enough... Harry's curses were much faster and more powerful than Tom Riddle's. The curse struck the aging wizard as he was sent flying backwards, the life swept out of him by the winds of death. The teachers and students raised their wands, and the Death Eaters charged forward, their numbers too vast to be stopped by the Hogwarts group. The teachers and Prefects fought valiently, but they fell, as Harry knew they would.  
  
Harry stepped over the corpse of Albus Dumbledore. Finally bested by a dark wizard, the third he had faced. Third time really is a charm.  
  
The doors to the Great Hall collapsed, and Harry found himself facing the student body. There no more house tables, all of the students were standing, facing him. Wands out but not raised, they were afraid, Harry could see it. They all quivered with fear, but continued to stand before him. There no sound, no fighting. The Death Eaters behind Harry were itching to attack, but would not until Harry commanded them. It was then that Harry noticed, one of the students stood out.  
  
Closest to him. A boy, a tiny boy. He was not shaking, there was no fear in his eyes. He was staring at Harry with hatred and disgust. Unlike the others, his wand was raised. Before long he was muttering an incantation, and Harry raised his wand to stop him, but could not. Nothing came from the boy's wand, but Harry felt the spell connect. It was not the killing curse, it was much more painful. He could feel his very essence being torn apart, his soul being crushed and destroyed inside him. He fought to keep his eyes open as hexes and curses flew from and into the Great Hall as the battle commenced. The boy who killed Harry was quickly mowed down by a killing curse. But Harry's pain did not stop, he was forced to close his eyes and clench his jaw to keep from screaming. He dropped to his knees, still feeling as though his mind was on fire. It was a terrible feeling, and he could not help but wonder if he had done something similar to all the people he had killed in his life.  
  
Harry welcomed death when it came, finally freeing him from his short torment. 


End file.
